


Choose Me (I'll Teach You Living)

by AlertsDontExist



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Cannibals in Cuba, Hannibal teaches Will to dance, I don't know where the conversations came from but they're good so they're staying put, M/M, Post-Fall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29876928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlertsDontExist/pseuds/AlertsDontExist
Summary: Hannibal thinks there are some ways to improve Will's hunting ability.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5
Collections: Hannibal Flash Fic #008





	Choose Me (I'll Teach You Living)

"What exactly makes you think this is something I plan on agreeing to, Hannibal?"

The man in question doesn't look up from the saucepan, finding his husband's indignant resistance amusing at most. "if we plan to continue our lives without attracting the attention of Jack or the others, we must practice caution, particularly with what we leave behind. You are passionate, Will, but sloppy. I won't have us found simply because you fall over yourself and let our hunt escape." 

Will scoffs, "I'm not that clumsy. I used to hike through uneven woods in the dark with tree roots and six dogs underfoot - toss in some ice and I _know_ your shiny little boots wouldn't make it past 30 feet." He turns as he speaks, pushing the chopped meat into the simmering pot on the stove and spreading the pieces out over the bottom. 

The comment went ignored in favor of a momentary glance towards the three dogs sat in the doorway to the living room, begging politely and entirely unaware of the point being made by their very existence. "It's possible, but understanding how the body moves can help in many ways beyond coordination. Agility is important in all aspects of day-to-day life."

It's slept on and agreed to, as planned. Will isn't surprised to see Hannibal returning home the next day with appropriate attire before he'd even told him his final decision and setting up a makeshift studio by noon so they have the rest of the day free to begin. Will feels odd in a single layer of breathable clothes, but it's nothing compared to how strange it is to see Hannibal in the same thing. Hannibal had been the same as he ever was since their arrival, either dressed to the nines or nearly naked in bed. From the looks of it, he isn't used to such clothing either, though that changes over the next few hours.

Hannibal hasn't even thought about wearing clothes like this in years, but comfort soon finds its way to him and he remembers more and more. They start from the very beginning, as much as Will gripes, Hannibal refuses to rush basics. It's all stretches and forms which Will masters easily, but Hannibal spends a bit longer on them regardless, ensuring nothing will pull or cramp. He makes Will hold every form as long as he can, adjusting here and there, though most only last a minute before Will pulls away, wincing as his muscles relax again. They spend hours on warm-ups, stretches, and basic exercises, Hannibal demonstrating first and directing Will as needed. Both feel the pull of hunger by the time Hannibal is satisfied and pulls Will back to his feet. Much of today has been review for both, fairly familiar with what they had already known, but a refresher was appreciated anyway.

The next morning begins with Will immediately demanding a massage for his aching muscles, painstakingly provided without a word of complaint. The lesson today is much shorter, only lasting until lunch and leaving the rest of the day free. This becomes the routine, starting about 30 minutes after breakfast and lasting the 3 hours until noon. Each day the time needed to stretch shrinks until it drops to just 10 minutes and Will is itching to move ahead. 

A week in is the first time Hannibal notices how much he has begun to sound like his old teacher. He isn't one to genuinely teach things, rather preferring to simply guide as much as he can and assist when necessary, but in some instances, there is no choice. Hannibal doesn't have the same intensity she did, but pushes for perfection anyway. Will is impatient, but Hannibal will have none of it until Will proves that he can do each move perfectly every time. His voice sharpens when he demands such proof, and tips into an aloof, haughty jeer when Will inevitably fails. Such inflections are not noticeable, nor are they meant to be cruel, but Hannibal can almost hear his old teacher's voice every time he opens his mouth. 

He already used to stretch and occasionally exercise with these positions, but as he joins Will in doing them more intensely, he recalls other things as well. Flashes of music and choreography on a wide, dark stage, reflecting lights into the audience and bathing row after row, illuminating their faces like the moon shining through trees to dirt and roots mostly hidden by the leaves above. He begins rehearsing what he can remember, adding to it what flows. After just a few months, he has two full songs choreographed and practiced, and knows Will has progressed far enough to begin learning them. He's eager to teach, and to see just how well Will can adapt to this too, but knows the argument that will ensue far before it begins. 

"I thought this was just to improve my footwork. I'm not interested in professional dance, as much as I'm sure you'd love to see it." As expected, Will is adverse. "Hunting is about movement, not choreography. It comes together anyway, Hannibal, not because we've planned anything out beforehand."

"The hunt is an ancient dance, dear Will, a choreography known only to the senses and our most instinctual desires that drives us to do what we do. It comes together because it was meant to, and because we are so well connected that it comes naturally to us to work together. To hunt with another is a display of communication, of trust, of desire. You show your partner your back and give them the opportunity to lunge; and yet, there is faith that they will not. Tell me Will, do you still distrust my devotion after all this time?"

"The hunt has come together because we perfected it, like a goldfish jumping through hoops. Some of us make it, and others die without even starting. I haven't exactly been given all the reason in the world to believe it won't be my flesh you taste next."

"The only time I wish to taste your flesh is in our bed, both very much alive and well, mylimasis. The very concept of success or failure is nothing that hasn't already been happening for thousands of years. Even so, we are different from our ancestors. We are given the choice to determine whether which outcome we desire. You and I have a way of seeing the world that is different from those around us. The ability to recognize at any moment whether we choose to live or die is not something gifted to all creatures."

Will laughs shortly, and turns to gather his things from the floor, sensing the lesson coming to a close early today. "Just the ones that don't want it."

"Don't you? Many would consider themselves lucky to be in your position. The wish to know what results may come from a choice is something that has been a part of humanity for a rather long time. The idea of precognition has appeared in numerous stories, legends, and works of art with the only consistent theme being the knowledge that such a thing is unattainable."

"Life is a toss-up, whether we want it to be or not is irrelevant. We don't get a choice in anything else, why should this be any different?"

"Why shouldn't it? Isn't the very act of having a choice a decision in itself? We are always given the option of not making a choice at all, and therefore choosing neither. Is it because we have never wanted this choice that you and I have been given it? An experiment to see what we do with the ability?"

"Another one of God's little tests?" The inquiry is anything but sincere.

"Why shouldn't it be? It must be lonely when everyone else is below the power of creation. One must create their own entertainment with the gifts they're given."

Will cocks his head, following the metaphor. "Is this you trying to convince me your teaching is a gift?"

"Have you noticed yourself improving since we began? In practice literal or otherwise?"

"Does my improvement mean I've accepted your generous donation?"

"You accept things all the time, whether you want them or not. A conscious acceptance is different from subconscious. Whether you allow my instruction is up to you. Though you are a fast learner with much promise."

Will walks off to take a shower, muttering about 'promise' and 'choices', but ultimately leaves Hannibal with a "Progress is indicative of instruction," tossed over the shoulder.

He seems to take the words into consideration though, as Hannibal finds Will slowly incorporating dance into more of his daily life. Little things here and there, in the way he walks or stands, in the way he moves when turning a certain way or reaching for something overhead. Dancing is becoming familiar, a part of life Hannibal recalls realizing had been much of the reason he never felt off-balance no matter what the situation. Slowly, dancing becomes a form of relaxation and expression as much a work of effort and learning. 

Hannibal wakes one morning to find Will already out of bed. He's not far, out on the balcony dressed in more casual clothes, no additional layers, soft and breathable. The cloudy skies shine into Hannibal's eyes, backing Will from any light facing him, and fading the man into a dim silhouette. He hasn't yet realized Hannibal is awake, who can't help but wonder how often this happens. The movements are smooth and fluid now, less focused on what they are and more on how they feel. Each position flows to the next, no stops or hesitation, always moving. There is no music, but Hannibal can practically feel the vibrations in the air of the streets below, buzzing with activity and forming their own kind of song. Hannibal can see words forming in the movements, but what they mean isn't important today. Today, he watches his husband, smooth and controlled, accept the gift he was given and choose to use it selfishly. An expression of one's mind, a form of art that very few will correctly understand, a way to do nothing other than simply _be_ in a way Hannibal hasn't seen since he felt Will pull him close and hold on tight all the way down the cliffside. 

Hannibal stands up quietly, content to do nothing more than watch, leaning slightly against the bedpost until Will seems satisfied, holding the final pose of the noise-less dance for just over a second until Hannibal's hands find his arms and push them upwards half a hair to their proper resting point - not that they were far enough away to worry about. 

"You speak beautifully, mylimasis." Hannibal murmurs as he spins Will around to capture him in a kiss.

"A teacher native in the tongue makes it easy." Will returns the kiss sweetly, "though I'm nowhere near fluent."

"Fluency comes with immersion. You may yet surpass me - a great honor as a student."

Will doesn't reply, instead draping his arms over Hannibal and gently moving them in time to music only he can hear, sure-footed and solid. Hannibal swears as they turn he can hear notes of a distant melody, and it sounds just like Will.

**Author's Note:**

> Started making it, watched it go... somewhere I guess - enjoy.


End file.
